


Friday the Thirteenth

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 08:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: From the prompt: A fic where they discuss their favorite sci fi / horror movies





	Friday the Thirteenth

He tosses the beer cap into the bin and takes a long swig. She’s waiting for his answer and he’s damn well going to give it to her.

“That’s not even close to a horror movie, Scully.” The bottle rests on his groin and pleasure twitches as he turns his chin towards her. She’s got her bottom lip between her teeth. The pink on her chest has spread so that it sits ragged in the V of her collar. He loves igniting Scully. She sparks so prettily.

“How can you say that? The Shining is tense, brooding, gory. It ticks all the boxes.”

“It’s a psychological thriller at best,” he says and he doesn’t even make it to the count of three before she’s fully sitting up and leaning closer to him. “Just like Jaws.”

“And Alien is a sci-fi movie but you’re quite happy to cross a little genre here and there to score points.” Her fingers are white around the midriff of the bottle and she takes a hefty swig, spilling some so she has to wipe her lips with the back of her hand. He wants to lick the skin there. Taste the sweet combination of wheat and hops and Scully’s angry tongue.

“It’s not a competition, Scully,” he says, leaning forward to narrow the gap between them. Her shirt is bagging forward and the lacy edges of her black (ooh, Scully) bra are within licking distance. “It’s a mature debate.”

She slumps against the backrest. He’s missing the view already. “Mature,” she says, taking a handful of Pringles. The crunch is delicious. Salt dots her lips.

“You’ve just challenged me to tell you my top ten horror movies and you’ve debunked every single one of them.”

“Gets a little old, doesn’t it, Scully? Being dismissed all the time.” He steals a chip from her hand and waits.

She puts her bottle down, wipes her hands along her thighs, pulls her shirt back over her shoulders. The red patch has faded. The spark is dying, but it’s still a beautiful sight. “You’re being deliberately provocative, Mulder. You know my list is better than yours and you just can’t handle the fact that I have a wealth of knowledge in an area where you would prefer to claim the expertise. I told you once that Carrie was one of my favourite films. You just chose not to hear me.”

Once the flame goes out, serious Scully comes out to play. She turns into the most proficient and considered debater, providing evidential responses to anything he can throw at her. She still hasn’t worked out his game and he loves it. Loves her. Her sober expression, the solemn note in her voice, the sound of her brain ticking over to the next answer. She’s always ready. The beer tastes sweeter as she tells him just why Psycho is still the best movie in the horror landscape and always will be. He doesn’t disagree. He just lets her talk and her words wash over him as he watches her mouth move.

“Mulder?” she’s been saying his name for a while. It’s the most erotic thing. Scully saying Mulder. He could listen to it for hours. “Mulder? Are you even listening anymore?”

He nods. “I’m hearing you,” he says and earns himself a slap to the thigh. The tingle runs up his leg to his groin and as she walks to the kitchen to get more beer he watches her ass in her jeans and wonders how he deserves these evenings. And how many more Friday the Thirteenths there are this year.


End file.
